Brother Mine
by VIP Author
Summary: "I am worried about him, constantly." Mycroft said. Little did John know that Sally Donovan once worried too.
1. Little Brother

**It is obvious I do not own BBC Sherlock. This story is also inspired by fan art on Tumblr or Google and songs.**

**Prologue**

It was late, Mike should already be asleep. Mrs. Holmes reassured herself as she went upstairs to her son's bedroom. In two days it was Christmas and young Mycroft had prepared a letter for Santa. Mrs. Holmes gently sat on his bed, smiling while picking up a little note intentionally left on the bed sheet.

_DEAR SANTA (mummy),_

_I have been very good dis year. I didn't tri to cook, execpt dat one tyme + I said sorry. So for Christmas can I please have: a book about the French empire (NOT a picture book), a minion dat is relly important and please, maybe, just maybe, a little brother?_

_Love, Mycroft 5 years_

Mrs. Holmes laid down the note and looked at her son. She was an excellent mother as far as she knew. And she was going to make sure her little Mikey got what he wanted.

Mr. Holmes watched expectantly as his wife came into their bedroom. She had this annoying smirk plastered across her face. Mrs. Holmes quietly sat on her chair before saying: "Do you like the name Sherlock, honey?"

**Chapter 1: Little Brother **

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"Are we there yet?"

"No, Mycroft, please just-"

"Mycroft! Stay still!" The expectant mother exclaimed loudly. It was at least the twentieth time Mycroft asked the same question. Thirteen minutes ago her water had broken and now they were on their way to the nearest hospital. Not to mention she barely fit in the tiny Fiat 500. Mr. Holmes didn't want to put his wife on more pressure but he was worried the car wouldn't make it to the hospital, at all. The rocky road was no help either since they lived on the countryside, not many people took care of the roads. The baby had certainly surprised them. The doctors expected the baby to come in one or three weeks! Not so early!

It all happened back when Mycroft was watching his favorite TV program: The BBC morning news."Oh my goodness!" he heard his mother shout from the kitchen. The smell of fresh pancakes floated in the air. "What is it?" His father came rushing from the garage. Today was Monday, and that meant school and work at the office for the Holmes family. Mycroft chose to ignore the conversation they had. He considered it unimportant since in the telly they were talking about possible missile attack on Iraq.

As far as he cared, that was far more interesting than his mother, probably complaining about losing a valuable earring. "The baby´s coming!" His father shouted. Now it was time for Mycroft to react.

He ran to his parents' bedroom, forgetting about the tactics the French and Americans were going to use. "Then don't stand there like a moron and do something!" Mrs. Holmes screamed again, grabbing her bag and walking as fast as she could towards the car. "Mummy let me help you!" He took her hand and helped her sit on the car seat. "Thank you Mike. It seems that your father is still asleep."

Mr. Holmes indignantly looked at his wife then at his son. "I hope you don´t mind missing school today." Mycroft smiled as he too entered the car. "Do not worry, I already know everything about today´s lesson. I have read the book at least a dozen times. I swear I can tell you everything from photosynthesis to Australia." He said, forgetting completely about the delicious pancakes.

"Look! There it is!" Mycroft excitedly jumped from the seat and pointed at the large white building ahead of them. "Finally! I was wondering when we were going to arrive."

Mycroft didn't exactly remember what happened after that. There were this group of women that helped his mother into the delivery room, if he recalled correctly, which he didn't know by the time of course. He realized this years later when he was more…informed about the circumstances. At the time he called it: the big white doors. The rest is all but a blur in his memory, unfortunately. But if there is one thing he remembered clearly then it was meeting _him_.

He had been waiting patiently with his father in the cold halls of the old hospital. "Are you sure you don´t want to sleep?" "Of course." That, of course, was a lie. There were circles under his eyes which were bloodshot red and his shirt was wrinkled. He evidently needed sleep. But he wouldn't give in, not until he met him. "As you wish Mycroft." Another twenty minutes passed until a nurse came out. "Mr. Holmes, you can come in." "Can my son go with me too?" The blonde nurse hesitated but agreed eventually. "Yes, I think. Why not." Mycroft and his father stepped into the room where his mother was already waiting for them.

"Mike, come here." Her voice was weak but she still managed to lift her hand, as an invitation. Mycroft slowly walked beside her, noticing a strange thing wrapped in a white sheet. "Mum, what is it that you´re holding?" he asked. "Mycroft, I would like you to meet Sherlock, your newborn brother." She smiled at the baby in her lap.

Mycroft jumped back in horror when he saw a little hand reach for his mother. "Mummy! Be careful!" he said with worry in his voice. "Nothing to worry about Mikey, it´s only your brother." He once again walked beside her. Then he froze when a pair of sky blue eyes met his. His eyes widened in surprise. Was it him? Could it really be…it is! Mycroft carefully stretched one of his fingers so he could shake hands with little Sherlock. Goosebumps formed on his skin when Sherlock took his finger and smiled at him.

He had jet black messy hair, just like his father and the same blue eyes of his mother. He gulped. He couldn't mess this up. He wouldn't allow himself to fail, not now.

He had waited long enough.

"Hello Sherlock," he greeted, smiling at him too," my name is Mycroft," for his age, he was a relatively tall boy. A large shadow covered baby Sherlock," your older brother to be more precise and from now on, I'm going to protect you with the best of my abilities, I promise."

**End of Chapter 1**


	2. Bittersweet

**Chapter 2: Bittersweet **

Mycroft had never even thought about having children. He was never the kind of person to like small kids unlike his parents and most of the population on earth.

"Kill!"

"Ok Sherlock, but first eat your lunch honey." His mother patiently said, putting the spoon inside of Sherlock´s mouth.

Thank god he had no intentions of having children.

Mycroft watched from the other end of the table as his brother mind was concentrated on the new episode of Criminal Legends on BBC2. Sherlock was an extremely active baby, especially during the night. But when something related to criminal investigations and double murder came on the TV he seemed to pay full attention, as if he knew what the woman was talking about. Mrs. Holmes wasn´t a big fan of these t shows. They showed explicit images, that´s when she would turn off the TV and Sherlock started crying.

"Mike, would you mind passing me the orange juice on the dishwasher? …Thank you." He nodded, and went back to his respective seat. Ironically his first word was murder. Baby Sherlock was already four months old. Now it were summer holidays. Their father was in a business trip in Belgium, he worked in Harper Collins, and there was conference he needed to attend. His mother didn't complain, but it was evident she would have liked them to spend more time together with the baby and his son. But life had other plans for them. Sherlock knew lots of words, excluding the criminal terms. Like mummy or daddy. Mycroft eyed his peculiar little brother once again. He was so…different from them. Well, he definitely could relate to that. He was a prodigy in his school, every single student envied him and teachers were already suggesting him some universities he could go to. He was 9, almost 10 years old but still. His mental age was over 12 years. Mycroft felt like being the black sheep of the entire school. But when he came back home, his mother reminded him he wasn´t alone. She was a gifted mathematician to say the least. She would help, which didn't happen very often, but when he did need help, she would be there.

"That´s it! Who is my little boy? Who is my little Sherlock?"

"Dada!"

Now when he watched her, she didn't seem like the prestigious mathematician she was. He saw a mother, nothing else. A shy smile creped onto his face as he watched his brother interact with his mother. Incredible how humans were capable of showing such kindness. He observed as Sherlock spit on his mother. What a strange brother he had. Maybe he'll become a police officer, he thought. The passion his brother shared for crime was incredible. Or a criminal, voice in the back of his mind said. He quickly pushed this idea out of his head. That was impossible, no Holmes had ever been a criminal, and they weren't going to start being now. His wandered to his dark red school bag, lying plainly on the floor. Was that possible? For his brother to turn evil? Is it? No. He answered and the topic didn't come to his mind, not until later that evening.

Mycroft had just finished his English homework. He was wearing his Star Wars pajamas while going to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He could need some sleep. Tomorrow they were going to have a Biology exam. The teacher didn't mention it but he noticed some test papers on her table when he gave her 3 pounds for the excursion they were going to have next Sunday. So scratch that: Tomorrow they were going to have a surprise exam from Biology. Then he heard weird noises coming out of Sherlock´s bedroom. He decided to check if everything was alright. Anything could be expected from a baby boy, and we are talking about baby Sherlock here.

What he saw changed the way he saw Sherlock. There he was, Sherlock, ripping the clowns head off, laughing as he did it. I should seriously stop watching those programs with Sherlock, Mycroft thought. He assured himself he was getting too paranoid. If he wasn't mistaken, that wasn't the normal behavior of a child. "Sherlock, look what you have done!" He said, taking the headless clown from him. "Myko!" Sherlock exclaimed, giving him the "puppy" eyes. It always worked on his mother, but Mycroft wasn´t a soft person, not ever. "No, Sherlock. You have broken Mr. Clown! It was one my favorite toys when I was a baby." Melancholy flashed in his eyes. "And you have torn his head off." He picked the head too. "Myko!" He tried to stand up but failed miserably. "Naa!"

That´s when his mother stepped in. "Mike! What is this supposed to mean!" Her gaze went back and forth between the Clown´s head and the rest of the body. "Why have you broken the toy?"

"It wasn´t me!" Mycroft said putting on a face, he had never done that before," it was Sherlock! He was playing he was murderer and I took the toy away!" "Keep telling that yourself. Give me that." She took the clown torn in two halves and picked up Sherlock from the carpet. His face was soaking wet from his tears. Mycroft couldn't believe what was happening to him. He didn't do anything wrong! What an injustice. And the image of his mother being hi hero has just crumbled down. This just couldn't be happening. His mother turned around, her eyes not meeting his. "I am disappointed, Mycroft."

Later that night, Mycroft let out a single tears. For a person that didn't feel many emotions, a tear meant it hurt what his mother said, a lot. But this wasn't his brother fault. He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. He had to believe that. But there were a few changes he had to do. One of them is control the contact of things little Sherlock watches. He couldn't image the power TV had over our minds until now. Good thing he saw that now. Better sooner than later, he thought. He made a promise, and he was going to make damn sure he kept it. For the years to come.

That´s what brothers are for, right?

**END of Chapter 2**

**Inspired by: The Verve- Bitter Sweet Symphony**


	3. Miss Donovan

**This chapter is a bit longer, I hope you don't mind guys.**

**Chapter three: Miss Donovan **

"Sherlock!" Their father screamed from his office. Sherlock reluctantly stepped into the dark room, a thick atmosphere surrounding them. Mycroft, as always, had to know about everything that was happening in his tiny empire (that's how Sherlock liked to called it), he followed his brother into the room.

Father didn't bother to send him out. It would probably be for the best if he stayed there. God knew he had indeed suffered the consequences. He shivered at the thought of... no not ever again, he though for himself.

"I have received a call from your school today. As a matter of fact," he looked into his golden pocket watch that Mycroft had given him on his birthday," four minutes ago. Explain yourself young man." He said with the most authoritative voice he could muster.

Sherlock had now thirteen years, while his brother, Mycroft, had just turned 22. It was common for Sherlock to be known as THE misfit of the school, and to be honest he couldn't care less. But that didn't mean his parents didn't care at all.

"Well you see, it's hard to explain-"

"I've got all night." He leaned back on his chair and stared directly into his eyes.

Sherlock let out a sigh. There was no point in lying to him: "I revealed that the director had been having an affair with my Physics teacher, which just turned out to be even more complicated. He had also been-"

"Yes Sherlock, I know. But that's not all. You are refusing to take part in sports classes because of the unhygienic conditions, your Math teacher is complaining that you are talking throughout the entire class-"

"Hey! It's not my fault she doesn't know anything about Math! All I do is explain to the other morons the same thing but in a higher level of Math vocabulary."

"And that's a lie. They have told me that you claim you're 'allergic' to them, with that I mean your classmates and probably every living thing in that school. That, my son, is called being anti-social."

"No! I am not anti-social! I am anti-idiot, I thought you would know that by now, considering I've been around for a fair amount of time..."

"That's it Sherlock Holmes!" His father voice boomed. Mycroft couldn't keep the amusement out of his eyes. This was the very first time his brother was going to get grounded.

"You have forbidden to go out, except for school of course,"

"Damn it," he heard Sherlock curse under his breath.

"I won't let you see Criminal legends season 10 premiere this Wednesday and no entering the school library." Before he finished that sentence, Sherlock's face hadn't changed at all. Well until...

"You can't do that! They are doing a special on Al Capone! And the only computer in this village is in that library! You can't be serious!" His brother raged, standing up from his seat. And yet, his father had one final blow prepared for him.

"Well you better believe that. Oh and you're grounded for one month."

"What!" and that was the breaking point for him.

"I have just realized I have been too kind on you, Sherlock. It's time to grow up." He lifted his hand, warning him if he said anything else, things would just get worse, or he would ignore it. That was a whole lot worse.

"Yes father." Sherlock said clenching his fists. He left the office mumbling something under his breath. Mycroft felt the need to step in.

"You are not seriously going to ground him for one entire month, are you father?" His father winked at him.

"Of course not, I am your father for Christ sakes! Who am I to do that?" He said more lightly this time," No, no, no. Do not worry, I expect this to last at most three days. Not more. But your mother is very much capable of that." He finished.

The next day wasn't better than the last one. Sherlock came late to school because of his dog destroying his homework and having to pick up all the pieces of the paper on the ground. Which sounded, and I quote: very unconvincing. Like his English teacher, Mrs. Daren so eloquently put it. And even thought it seemed fake, his dog Redbeard had 'accidentally' shewed Sherlock´s homework. It certainly isn't his fault they had to draw a squirrel.

A grey squirrel, which just happened to be Redbeard's favorite.

He was now currently sitting on his usual place. The third row with a couple of douchebags, he thought for himself. The first class had finished. Now they were having Math.

_Great. _

Sherlock put his book aside, not wanting to finish the book before the school day ends. He had to occupy his brain with something. He felt someone was staring at him. So he lifted his gaze, only to see a bunch of girls beginning to blush. He sighed exasperatedly now. Weren´t they too young for this? He thought.

Then…well _she_ happened.

A pair of honey brown eyes stole his mind.

She walked with authority, not like most of the girls. She seemed… confident about herself. Sherlock couldn´t help but stare at her sit in front of him. Who was she? Was she a transfer student? The probability of that was 67 percent. Although there still was chance she just happened to change class. She didn´t pay attention to any of the glares her classmates were giving her. Then one weakling, Theresa Owens, approached her.

"Hello, I am Theresa. Are you the transfer student Mrs. Daren told us about?" Oh did she? He thought.

"Yes." She replied simply," The name is Sally Donovan." She said glancing at the thin girl in front of her. "Anything else?"

"No, of course not." Theresa dismissed herself quickly returning to her respective seat. Sherlock hadn't noticed until then that all the conversation they´d had been having had abruptly stopped once Miss Donovan started speaking. She spoke a bit half-heartedly, so he noticed.

The school bell rang, everyone recovered from the shock and went into their seats. Mrs. Sullivan arrived with her world famous Minnie Mouse bag. The bag became over the year a trademark for her.

They all stood up and he saw she wasn´t that tall, but she had dark brown curly hair made her look like a lioness.

_The name is Sherlock Holmes._

He passed the note through the one that was sitting beside her. Thomas? Or was it Timmy? Never mind, he thought. All that mattered was her response.

For the first twenty minutes he had his book hidden under his desk, not trying to have any unnecessary complications today with any of the teachers. From the corner of his eyes he silently observed the new girl.

The response wouldn't come until the end of lesson was nearby. Sherlock wasn't paying attention to any of the nonsense the teacher was telling them. His patience was running short and he knew he shouldn't put women under pressure. He had learned a thing or two about those things alongside his brother Myc. His heart jumped when Tom guy assed him back the same piece of paper. Her hand writing was exquisite to say the least.

_Sally Donovan. Nice to meet ya._

When the lesson ended. All the guys started to bombard her with all kinds of questions. All he could do is stare at the note wordlessly. He stood up, he wasn´t aware of what he was doing exactly. He moved through the guy's whiteout putting any effort to push them aside.

"Donovan." He addressed her. They all turned at him with their eyes wide.

"Care to join me for Geography class?" He offered her his hand. They couldn´t believe it. Was THE Sherlock Holmes interacting with a fellow student?

"Why should I?" she answered nonchalantly, not looking away from her exercise book. Sherlock wasn't giving up that easily.

"Why shouldn't you?"

He answered as carelessly as she did. This time she did look up. Sherlock smirked and started to walk away.

Hopeful.

"Oi! Wait a second!" she said from behind running to catch up with him.

Sherlock smiled. It had worked out perfectly.

"If I am correct, it´s only formal to say: Welcome to Tamely Upper School."

"I suppose it is my turn to say: Thank you very much. But let's be honest here," she stopped walking and so he did too.

"You´re not like the others, are you?" Sally asked silently.

Sherlock didn't respond right away. This Donovan girl was here for one class and yet she took notice of that. Well, it was pretty obvious, since he was the only one without a siting partner.

"I´ll take your silence as yes." They kept on walking.

"So what brought you here in the first place?" Sherlock tried to find out more about her.

"Originally, I am from Reading. But my father found a work place here on London for the Scotland Yard. He´s a detective you know? So we all moved here. That is pretty much the story." When she finished, they had already arrived to the classroom. It was filled with old globes and maps all over the place.

"Are you going to sit next to me?" Sally asked while she put her bag down.

"Sure." He said. Inside he was melting. This was an unexplored area he was entering.

"So, what´s your story?"

"Well, I am too from another village. It´s called Bradfield and it is really far away from London. But what happened is practically the same. My father found a job here and older brother Mycroft goes to university here too."

"Hmm." She nodded. Sherlock noticed she wasn't paying much attention to him. He switched the subject. He noticed a pen with musical notes printed in it. The last thing he could do is take a shot in dark.

"By the way, I am also a big fan of Mozart."

Sally turned her head at light speed. Something had changed in her eyes, he noticed.

"Really?"

"Yes," he was literally mind storming. Mozart was a composer as long as he knew. They had studied him in Primary school but he had long forgotten everything. He searched through all of his mind. Moonlight Sonata, no. That was Bethavens or was Beethoven? Fugue in D moll? No, that´s from the baroque era._ Argh_. He screamed internally. What did Mozart compose?

Please wait…loading…

_Requiem!_

"Still, my all-time favorite from him is Requiem. A masterpiece if you ask me. I love the way he expresses the sadness throughout the notes. Truly astounding. A shame they don't make music like that nowadays."

A minute or two passed-

"…tell me more about yourself, _Sherlock_."

Bingo.

**Inspired by: Of monsters and men- Little Talks**

**Note: Thanks for being patient with me guys. Sorry if there are any grammar mistakes. And yes, I admit it was a bit cliché of me to make a baby talk about things like that. (Response for Guest review) English is not my first language.**


	4. A life is lost

**Chapter 4: A life is lost**

Sherlock was running home from the bus station. It was particularly close so his parents needn't to worry about him safely arriving home too much. He slammed the doors behind him. He threw his school bag into the corner and ran to his bedroom.

His companion ship with Sally had been growing throughout the months. They helped each other, supported each other. The rest of the school could just envy them. He seemed like a hopeless case and yet he had found something which they all thought was impossible: a person in which he found genuine interest in.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft shouted from the library,"is it you?"

"Yes!" He replied quickly, switching on his computer then typing his eight digit password. Sherlock didn't notice something was missing.

"Sherlock," Mycroft now said, leaning onto Sherlock's door frame. Sherlock knew that tone of voice all too well.

"What is it?" he really didn't have time for their 'growing up' conversations. Last time they talked it turned into a catastrophe.

"Sherlock would you stop starring at that god forsaken monitor and pay some attention." His mood changed drastically.

He sighed not wanting to play with his older brothers emotions and directed his gaze onto his. "What?" He said.

Sherlock saw pressure in his brothers eyes. Something which was very unusual to say the least. Either way, the thing which caused it had to be important to them or for him.

Mycroft didn't know what to do or how to do it.

In all these years he had never encountered such a stressing situation as this. So he did the only thing he had ever known how to do: state the facts.

When he finished Sherlock let out trembling: "What?"

Sally had just finished Arts class. A long day it had been indeed. Her and Sherlock had agreed on having an email session, as they like to call it. She stuffed her pencils into her bag. They had never tried it before, the emailing thing. And Sally was pretty exited about it.

In her new school people had begun to call them 'weirdos' or whatever. Sally seriously didn't see any purpose in it. As if it affected them. Just because she liked being in Sherlock's company didn't mean she was 'an idiot'.

On the contrary, that meant she liked the company of highly intelligent people. That proved the rest of the students were complete morons.

Finally, she had arrived home and had dinner with her mother. His father worked in Scotland Yard as a detective until the late house of the night. So she didn't see much of him during the day.

Right now she was in front of her computer, waiting for Sherlock to respond to her email.

It was now bedtime for her. And Sherlock hadn't replied her email. She was starting get worried.

The next day, the teacher announced Sherlock wouldn't be joining them for today's lesson. All the school was as if 'celebrating' it. Sally felt sickened by their behavior. What had happened?

That was it. It had been now 24 hours since she last had contact with Sherlock and her email still remained un replied. Something was seriously wrong. She tipped his number onto her Nokia and waited for him to take the phone.

Pip

Nothing.

Pip

Still Nothing.

Pip

"Hmm?" A weak voice asked.

"Sherlock? It's me Sally!"

She said desperately, hoping to hear Sherlock's voice.

"...Sally?" After a few minutes her response had arrived.

"Sherlock! Thank god!" Sally felt relief wash over her when she recognized Sherlock's voice. "For Christ sakes what's happened?" She asked, noticing the drastical change in his voice.

"Redbeard," he started to choke," he's dead."

Note: Sorry if this chapter format is a bit off. I wrote this exclusively on my phone.


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